


Mind the Neighbors

by TracyLorde



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doctor Clarke, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Neighbors, Teacher Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 14:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12728217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracyLorde/pseuds/TracyLorde
Summary: Bellamy's new neighbor seems rather irritated with him, until it turns out she might need his help.





	Mind the Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starcrossed92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcrossed92/gifts).



> Happy birthday Hannagh! xoxoxo

For the third time that week Bellamy had come home to a passive aggressive note from his downstairs neighbor. In the six years Bellamy had lived in that apartment, he had never had half as much trouble with one of the other tenants. But since his new neighbor had moved in that summer, she had found nothing but problems with him. The only things he knew about her was that her name was Clarke, she was a doctor, and by all signs she didn't much care for him.

It was always the noise. She worked early shifts at the hospital, and when he got home late from parent teacher conferences or the occasional date apparently his normal tread would wake Clarke from the deepest of sleep. She had appeared at his door one night, clad in pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt, hair mussed from sleep, and (almost politely) asked him to be a little quieter when he came home late. He had apologized, refrained from suggesting such a light sleeper should wear earplugs, and casually noticed that his new neighbor was pretty cute.

Since they worked such opposite schedules, the next time Bellamy saw Clarke was when he was taking out the trash late one night a few months later. He’d accidentally dropped a bag on the first floor landing. Clarke had opened the door to her apartment, wearing her scrubs and only half awake, and told him dryly he was lucky she was already up for work. He laughed and apologized again, but she brushed past him before he had a chance to reply.

The notes were new. The first one, which he found taped to his door on Monday night, read: “ _You either have a leak in your kitchen or you’ve left the faucet running for two days straight. For the love of god, please turn off the damn faucet or get it fixed. Mind the neighbors._ ” He’d rolled his eyes, but she was right…there was a leak. At least she’d caught it before the water bill did. The next note, on Thursday, simply read: “ _Please consider investing in house slippers_.” He’d chuckled and made sure to take his shoes off as soon as he got home in future.

The third note came on Friday. He found it when he’d gotten home from work around six o’clock. He was starving, and just wanted to make some pasta and turn the history channel and put off grading papers until tomorrow. Instead, he saw Clarke’s tell-tale light blue stationary attached to his door. He sighed preemptively, and pulled the note down. It read: “ _If you don't have plans next Friday, text me. I could use a hand with something_.” Clarke had written her phone number at the bottom of the note. Bewildered and curious, Bellamy dropped his books on the coffee table and made his way downstairs. He had seen Clarke’s car, and heard music playing on his way past her door, so he knew she was home and awake.

She answered quickly at the knock, wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, but frowned when she saw it was him. “I thought you were the Chinese food. Didn't I ask you to text me?”

Bellamy smirked at her terse manner. “Sorry, I just knew you were home. What did you need a hand with?”

Clarke sighed and opened the door fully. “Come in, you're letting all the heat out.”

Bellamy stepped inside and followed her into the kitchen. Her apartment was messier than he would have expected. Not untidy, exactly, but there were a few piles of clean laundry on the couch and the sink was full of coffee mugs.

“So…what did you need a hand with next Friday?” Bellamy asked, leaning over the laminate top of the island as she took a seat on the counter next to the sink. “Leaky faucet?”

Clarke laughed at his bad joke, and Bellamy grinned back.

“No,” she replied, looking a little sheepish, “I actually need a date.”

Bellamy didn't bother trying to hide the surprise on his face. “A date? That’s what you need a hand with?”

“Alright, so I didn't make the best choice of words. It’s been a long week. Anyway, are you free?”

“Yeah, sure…what’s it for? And why I am on your list of potential dates?”

Clarke sighed and launched into her story. “Every year the hospital where I work throws a big holiday gala. It’s black tie: catered, open bar, full band. I kind of told my coworkers I was dating someone and now they expect me to show up with you.”

“With me?” Bellamy asked. “You told them you were dating a person you’ve talked to a grand total of twice?”

“Four times if you count the notes,” Clarke replied. “Yeah, you were the first person that popped into my head for some reason.”

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, utterly confused. “I didn’t even know you knew my name.”

“It’s on your mailbox. Not a name you’re likely to forget even if you only see it once.”

Bellamy laughed. “Alright, that checks out.”

“So you’re in?” Clarke asked, looking excited. It was cute.

“Sure,” Bellamy agreed, smiling at her. “I don't have plans, and it sounds like a fun party.”

Clarke sighed, clearly relieved. “It should be, now that I can deflect people…do you have a tux?”

“Not exactly…”

“I’ll cover a rental, no worries,” Clarke cut in quickly. “Just save the receipt for me.”

“Ok, that seems fair.” Bellamy bit his lip, looking around her apartment. “So, what’s our story?”

“Pardon?”

“Our relationship story. For starters, how long have you been telling your coworkers we’ve been dating?”

“Oh, that…about two months. Not to get too personal, but I had this kind of awful breakup last year, and the rebound wasn't great either.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he replied genuinely.

“It’s fine, I’ve moved on. They just don't believe that I have.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “So now I’m going to show them I’m with someone else, and then we’ll ‘break up,’” Clarke did air quotes, “and they’ll let me alone for a while.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “Your friends sound like a handful.”

“They are, but honestly they mean well. You're right, we’ll need to exchange all our personal details in case you get questions.”

Before Bellamy could reply, the doorbell rang

“Food’s here!” Clarke jumped down from her perch on the counter and headed for the door. “Why don't you stay for dinner? We can talk and get our story straight. I always order way too much, save me from the leftovers.”

Bellamy grinned. “Sounds great.”

—

On Friday night, Clarke took Bellamy’s breath away twice in the space of a minute. The first time was when she opened the door to meet him. She wearing an incredibly flattering red dress, her hair was swept up and off to the side, and she was already smiling—that was new. Second, when she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Sorry, just thought we should get into character,” she said lightly when he froze up.

“No, that’s good, that’s fine,” Bellamy murmured.  
Clarke’s eyes glinted mischievously as she gestured to her dress. “You like?”

“You look amazing.” Absolutely no point in lying, he supposed.

Clarke’s laugh wrinkled her nose. “Benefits of you only seeing me scrubs or pajamas before, I guess. Come in, I’m just getting my shoes. Tux looks good, by the way,” Clarke called as she walked into her bedroom. “You have your receipt?”

“Yeah, uhhh….it’s ok, though.” Bellamy replied, meeting Clarke’s eye as she reemerged with a pair of strappy pumps. “It wasn't a problem, I don't need you to reimburse me.”

Clarke sat down on the couch and began to put her shoes on, the slit on the side of her dress falling away to reveal almost the entire length of her leg. “You sure? It’s no problem, you are doing me a favor after all…”

“I’m sure,” Bellamy replied, trying his best not to stare. “It would make me feel less like a gigolo.”

Clarke snorted and glanced up at him, eyes twinkling.

“Besides,” Bellamy continued, “I’m getting dinner and drinks out of this, so it’s a fair enough trade.”

“I’ll say so,” Clarke grinned up at him. “Not to mention I’m a damn delight.”

He chuckled, and offered his arm to escort her out to the waiting car.

The gala was being held at the Arkadia, an upscale hotel and the nicest venue in town. The decorations were spectacular, and Bellamy was again reminded of the relative poverty of his chosen profession.

Clarke seemed far more comfortable on his arm than he had expected, so Bellamy didn't have to try very hard to appear like a convincing boyfriend. He had privately felt a little like James Bond since putting the rental tux on, and Clarke certainly could pass for a Bond girl with that dress and those shoes and that everything else…

“You want a drink?”

Her question startled him back to reality. “Please.”

She grinned and took his hand, leading him towards the bar.

“Gin and tonic and a tequila on the rocks, please,” Bellamy ordered, remembering Clarke’s preferred inaugural drink.

“Thanks,” she smiled up at him, then turned to face the room. “Ok, so I see Monty and Miller over there, you’ll like them both.” She glanced back at him. “You ready for this?”

Bellamy took a sip of his cocktail and nodded. “Bring it on.”

Clarke slipped her hand into his again (he was already sort of used to that feeling), and they made their way across the room.

“Griffin!” a voice behind them called, and Bellamy turned to see a petite dark haired woman waving at them.

“Who’s this, Raven?” he whispered to Clarke under his breath.

“Nice,” she replied appreciatively in a low voice and called back, “Hey, Reyes.”

“So this is the mysterious boyfriend,” Raven said with a smirk, giving Bellamy a once over. “I don't know why you were hiding him, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of here.”

Bellamy smirked and glanced at Clarke, playing the part. “Yeah, babe, you embarrassed of me, or something?”

“Oh please,” Clarke elbowed him playfully. “Like any of us have a lot of time for socializing anyway.”

“Well, we were all starting to doubt that you existed, is all,” Raven replied. “Happy to be proven wrong!”

“Starting to doubt who existed?” a man had just appeared at Raven’s elbow. He glanced over at Bellamy. “Oh, holy shit, is this the infamous Bellamy? You’re real, huh?”

“Yes, Murphy, he exists,” replied Clarke shortly.

Murphy raised an eyebrow as he handed a drink to Raven. “Well, I guess I’m going to be losing some money on that betting pool.”

Bellamy laughed and placed a hand on Clarke’s waist. “Sorry to disappoint, man.”

“You’ve done anything but that,” Raven chimed in, giving Clarke a look that said nicely done.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Well, now that you've both been proven wrong, excuse us, we have to make our rounds.”

Bellamy continued to enjoy himself more as the night wore on. Clarke’s easy manner with him helped. She was quite physically comfortable around him, or she acted like it. She was constantly running and hand over his back, pressing up against him, or playing with his hair. She wasn't even tipsy, just—very convincingly playing his girlfriend. If he wasn't careful, he’d believe it too.

Clarke’s coworkers were all very friendly, if a little too invested in their “relationship.” The rehearsed “how did you meet” story went over with a smash every time. Even Dr. Jaha, Clarke’s boss, complimented them on being a lovely couple. The dinner was great, the speeches bearable, and the booze continued to flow freely throughout. By the time the gala was wrapping up, Bellamy hated that he would have to go back to being just Clarke's upstairs neighbor.

“You ready to get out of here?” Clarke asked, fighting back a yawn, as guests started to filter out of the ballroom.

Bellamy knew he wasn’t ready for the night to end quite yet, but they had made their agreement, and he was going to stick to it. He nodded.

The car ride back was pretty quiet, and though he had an urge to wrap an arm round her, he resisted. They were in private now, and that wasn't part of the deal. He walked her to her door of course, arm in arm, but it was cold so that just made sense.

“So, thanks for tonight…” Clarke said when they reached her apartment. She had unlocked her door but had yet to step inside. She was still lingering in the hallway for some reason. He hair had started to fall down from its styling, and her lipstick had faded, but she still looked stunningly beautiful. It wasn't making walking away any easier for him.

“Yeah, I guess it’s time for us to break up,” Bellamy replied, regretting the words before they left his lips.

Clarke bit her lower lip, still hesitating in the doorway, a curious expression on her face.

“Or—“ Bellamy continued hurriedly, “What if we didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?” Clarke asked, taking a step towards him. “Didn’t break up?”

Bellamy bowed his head, flushing slightly, but didn't waver. “Yeah, I just mean…I had a lot of fun tonight. You can go back to leaving passive aggressive notes on my door, but maybe we can hang out again sometimes—“

Clarke grinned widely. “How about we just do that now?” and she kissed him. It was a good kiss, long and deep, her hands tangled in his hair and his arms wrapping round her waist. He pulled back after a moment, completely dazed but smiling ear to ear.

“You want to come in?” she asked in a husky voice, kicking the door open behind her.

Bellamy smirked. No more hesitation. He lifted her up in a single motion and her legs wrapped around him.

“Bedroom’s that way,” Clarke murmured, not bothering to stop kissing him, just vaguely gesturing with one arm behind her, throwing his bow tie aside as she did so. 

“Make sure we keep it down,” Bellamy whispered teasingly as he laid her on the bed, “We’ve got to mind the neighbors.”

Clarke grinned and pulled him towards her by his collar. “No promises.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr!](https://tracylorde.tumblr.com)


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